The Pahoehoe Affair
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: When THRUSH invents a very real version of acid rain, Napoleon and Illya must go undercover at a Hawaiian resort to track down the missing scientist and stop THRUSH in its tracks.


PROLOGUE

Not a sound penetrated the stillness of the cool mountain air. The figures sat about the campfire, which fought unsuccessfully against the encroaching darkness.

"Sure is quiet," murmured a denim-clad girl, her voice a whisper as if afraid to disturb the silence.

"Eerie, just like the lake of the same name and to think there's a teeming rash of life not fifteen minutes away from here," responded a boy as he balanced a tray on his knees and picked at the reconstituted food.

"We're just fortunate that Kilauea went up when it did, or this place would be swarming with scientists and we'd be out of luck."

"And still in California," Dennis Hueber added, sipping from his coffee cup.

"It's just so strange here." Another of his students added his voice to the discussion. "Here we have a mountain on the opposite side of this huge crater which just blew up and there's nothing left - no trees, no debris, not a single living thing."

"Also, no lava and that's the freaky part," spoke up the girl again.

"But explainable, I hope. Otherwise, we may have an argument from the Board of Regents." However, Hueber inwardly agreed with the girl. It was peculiar, but then, that's why he was here. He rose and threw the remainder of his coffee into the dying fire. "We'd better pack it in for the day. The Science Department will want a full report, including detailed maps and samples."

"Ye olde grad student speaketh," intoned the girl. "What's the use of being in glamorous Hawaii if all we do is scrape up rocks and put them in bags and live in tents?"

Hueber smiled at her, then at the other geology students. "We do what we have to first, and then we'll play. I know this great place in Hilo that sells the world's best takos."

"Takos? In Hawaii?"

"It's Japanese for squid." He paused for the groans and then continued. "But first, it's the nose to the grindstone." He stretched his full 6'4" towards the sky and squinted up. "Good thing we pitched the tents. It looks like rain."

"It always looks like rain," complained one. "So much for Hawaii - land of eternal sun."

"That's Arizona, Mick."

Dennis Hueber pushed his feet into his sleeping bag and then reach beneath his pillow to pull out a pen-like tube. "Open Channel H, please." He spoke softly as the rain began to play on the canvas roof of his tent.

"Channel H open. Aloha, Dennis."

"Aloha yourself. How did you know it was me?" Hueber grinned.

"Luck of the Islands. We thrive on it...that and pineapples. How goes the camping trip?"

"Very restful, actually, when all I have to do is sit on the enthusiasm of five college students. We're going to take samples tomorrow and then I'm taking the kids into Hilo. Maybe it'll quiet them down and give me a chance to drop stuff off at the labs. Other than that, zippo."

"That's it? Nothing else?"

"And a lot of it. Oh, it is raining." A splat hit him on the back of the neck. "And my tent has sprung a leak."

"At least our rains are warm and gentle."

"Just like your women." A second drop hit his arm and then his neck. "Listen, I'm going to sign off and see if I can room with one of my protégés. I'll check in again at..." He trailed off at the burning sensation on his neck and the tingling on his arm where the drops had hit. In fact, they were beginning to just plain hurt and more rain was dripping in.

As he gave voice to that pain, the communicator in his hand, demanded. "Dennis? Agent Hueber, report!" But Hueber had dropped the communicator, brushing at his sopping head and struggling out of his sleeping bag in an attempt to get out of the collapsing tent. He clutched at his body, unaware of the cries of his fellow campers. He glanced down at his arms in the fading light of a lantern and screamed at the sight of his own bones.

CHAPTER ONE: "ISN'T THAT HAWAIIAN FOR BIRD?"

Napoleon Solo walked slowly down the steel-lined corridors of U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters, smiling at the familiar grey and white surroundings. He always enjoyed his vacations away from U.N.C.L.E.'s sphere of influence, but there was definitely something to be said about home, sweet home.

Napoleon paused before a door, which compliantly slid open at his approach and he walked into the cubicle he called his office. Hanging up his suit jacket on a nearby hanger, he cast a curious eye down at the paperwork, mail and phone messages that had accumulated in his in bin during his absence. Yes, it was good to be missed and with that thought in mind, he walked to the partitioned-off section of the small room and stuck his head around the corner. He could hear the rustling of movement behind the panel and grinned at the thought of his partner hard at work.

"Illya, are you home?" The sight of the hopelessly stacked desk answered him. There were piles of files on every available surface, stacked waist high on the floor, rows and rows of them until the small cubical looked like a file cabinet has vomited its contents in there. Napoleon's smile returned as he beheld a gently curvaceous brunette depositing yet more files onto the desk's surface, holding onto them as if they would settled themselves into a straight stack.

"Good grief, what a mess," he muttered at the sight

"I'm afraid you've missed him by about two weeks, Mr. Solo," she spoke casually, refusing to even hint at blushing beneath Napoleon's appraising eye. "He checked out of here about three days after you left and no one's seen hide or blond hair of him since. We've been using his office as a backup storage space. Murphy set fire to the file room – by accident or so he claims."

"So I can tell," Napoleon said, gesturing at the desk. "He's going to wish he'd stayed away when he sees this, especially if someone were to slip and tell him that they are all his."

The secretary smiled at the dark-haired man. "He's tough; he'd handle it in his usual calm manner and throw everything away. How was your time at the health spa? Everything back in working order?"

"I'm feeling very...healthy, thank you. If you're not busy this evening…" Napoleon broke off at a crescendo of three phone bells splitting the air. He reached for a receiver, but was beaten to it by the woman. She listened for a moment and then replied.

"Yes, sir, I'll inform Mr. Solo." She replaced the receiver and shrugged her shoulders delicately. "Guess you'll have to tell me about the resort later. Mr. Waverly wants to see you as soon as possible."

"The man's four favorite words," Napoleon grumbled good- naturedly. Yet he didn't mind. It was good to be home.

Napoleon followed a well-worn path to Waverly's office and waited as Waverly's secretary announced him. He'd long since given up flirting with her. She didn't take his advances well and he'd gotten written up for it. Now he remained all business until she gestured him in and Napoleon entered, standing quietly while awaiting a word of recognition from the elderly man before him.

Alexander Waverly hardly glanced up from the file to his chief enforcement agent and instead motioned him to a chair. Still studying the papers in his aged, yet powerful hands, he said gruffly, "How was your vacation, Mr. Solo?"

"Very fine, Sir, thank you." Napoleon slid into his usual seat, the hint of a smile playing across his lips. "The airs in Rio are very restful at this time of year, sir."

"Excellent. You will be leaving in a few hours for another resort." Waverly's eyes flicked up to lock with his and he spun the circular table around until a file folder rested before the dark–haired agent.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, sir." He reached for the folder and flipped it open.

"Your attention on the screen please." Waverly depressed a button and a projector screen descended into place, its blankness replaced immediately with a photograph, as Waverly prepared his lecturing voice. "This is the Hotel Manu, located on the Big Island of Hawaii."

"Manu? Isn't that Hawaiian for bird?" Napoleon looked away from his study of the screen to face his chief.

"Very perceptive of you, Mr. Solo. That is indeed what it is and it would appear that our old friends are up to their tricks again." Waverly broke off to light his pipe as a second slide, a close-up, took the place of the first. "This hotel caters to the elite, the most important people in the world. We also believe that it is a front for a THRUSH operation."

"Convenient for THRUSH."

A third slide, this time of a handwritten note, filled the screen, and Napoleon read it out loud. "'I have had it with civilized life. I am going to stay here forever and live out my life in peace and tranquility and be one with it. I leave my estate and property to the Hotel Manu, whose enlightenment led to this decision. Dr. Lester D. Maglespie.'" Napoleon broke off. "Surely not THE Dr. Maglespie? He's the most noted member in the field of nuclear physics that the world has today."

"Had, Mr. Solo. He would seem to have vanished from the face of the Earth." Waverly rose, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his ever-present tweed suit. "Of course, there's nothing wrong with a man running off to Paradise - if, indeed, it was his decision and not THRUSH's. The connection with the hotel is, needless to say, disturbing." The man pulled out a packet of pipe tobacco and began to stuff the bowl of his pipe.

"That's a fine mess." Napoleon idly traced a circle with his finger on the table before him. "But I have the sense that there's more to this story."

Waverly's eyebrows arched briefly, but otherwise he seemed unsurprised by Napoleon's statement. He lit the pipe and puffed on it before continuing. "Indeed there is, Mr. Solo. Mr. Kuryakin was sent there immediately upon our learning of the doctor's abandonment, as it were, and was able to secure a position at the Hotel Manu. He sent this on with his report last week." Waverly punched a button and an unfamiliar voice began.

"Oh, and my tent has sprung a leak."

"At least our rains are warm and gentle."

"Just like your women. Listen, I'm going to sign off and see if I can room with one of my protégés. I'll check in at the..."

Napoleon sat forward at the man's cries, the anxious voice of the U.N.C.L.E. operator, the ensuing screams of agony of other people, presumably the grad students. The haunting noise faded, replaced by the well-known tones of his partner and, in spite of the horror, Napoleon smiled slightly at the clipped British voice.

"When we went to investigate, there was nothing. The whole camp was gone, or so we thought. A closer survey of the area revealed the acid-charred bit s of remains of six skeletons and several scraps of metal that are still being analyzed. As near as we can figure, an incredibly corrosive acid caused their deaths. We found traces of it in the nearby water when one member of our party unwittingly drank from a nearby stream. Regrettably we were unable to save her. It completely dissolved her internal organs and soft tissue within a matter of a few moments. We are assuming that this is what happened to the members of the geological survey team. We presume THRUSH to be involved, although we have yet to confirm any direct involvement as of this time. At this time, it might be wise to send in some additional backup. I'll check in at the appointed time. Kuryakin out."

"It sounds as though Illya's been busy," Napoleon said, noting that the Russian's voice sounded tired, almost defeated. The man didn't take the loss of any fellow agent well.

"Indeed, and you are due there in a day. He will contact you, Mr. Solo."

"One more question, if I may, sir? Since this is obviously a THRUSH-run operation, what's to prevent them from picking me up the minute I arrive? I'm hardly unknown to them."

"Before you leave, Mr. Solo, you will pay a visit to Section 8. When they finish with you, it'll be doubtful that your own mother would recognize you. I don't have to remind you to tread very lightly, Mr. Solo. If THRUSH is involved, you can well expect trouble. If not, then it behooves us to remain discreet."

"Yes, sir, I shall be the picture of discretion and decorum."

"I am counting upon it, Mr. Solo."

Napoleon Solo stepped into his air-conditioned room, feeling a small surge of security travel down his spine as he shut and locked his door. It was the first time since landing at the Kona Airport that he felt relatively safe. Now, even in the blessed solitude of his room, he still wasn't ready to fully relax. His nerves were on edge and he walked out onto his balcony in an attempt to get the lay of the land. The lanai sported a fair view of the beach and ocean beyond to the west and of the vivid green of golf courses to the north. The beach had a splattering of guests sprawled out on towels or in beach chairs. It all looked peaceful, but he'd had alarm bells going off in his head since walking into the lobby. Here there be THRUSH.

Restlessly, he watched two sun-bronzed men tempt the fate of the waves with their surfboards until a tingling in the back of his neck brought his attention from the horizon and to his immediate area. Sure enough, someone was working the lock on his door. Reaching beneath his white poplin jacket, he pulled his gun free from its holster.

Napoleon used the wall as a shield from the slowly opening door. Molding himself against the balcony wall, he held his breath as a person came into view, visibly relaxing at the sight of a woman wearing a hotel uniform. He holstered the gun and entered his room, remembering not to move too quickly. Part of his current cover was age.

"It's a little late to be changing the sheets, isn't it?" he inquired politely, smiling at the sharp intake of breath as the woman spun.

"Not at all," she responded almost immediately. "We have full twenty-four hour maid and room service here, as well as a variety of other services for your use. Unpacking, room service, full concierge as well as both private and group tours are at your beck and call with a mere phone call." She held out a hand. "I'm sorry if I surprised you, but I'm the official hotel greeter. I missed you in the lobby and wanted to make sure that I extended my professional welcome to our hotel. Uncle Alex also wanted me to be sure and give you a proper Hawaiian welcome."

Napoleon smiled, his hazel eyes behind the glasses mischievous. "Does that mean you're going to lei me?" He took her hand and caressed the back of it with one thumb.

"Oh, please, not that old chestnut. I'm Melanie Avid. Aloha. Professor Radcliff, I presume?"

"At the moment, or Napoleon Solo, if you prefer. Isn't this a little open for a meeting?"

"The room's clean. Illya went through it thoroughly just before you arrived. I would suggest you keep an eye on your transmissions though. Since someone comes in every night for turn down service, there will be plenty of opportunities to bug the room," she added as an afterthought, withdrawing her communicator. "Open Channel H, please."

"Channel H is open."

"This is Avid. Let Illya know our New York cousin got here right on time."

"I'll relay the message. Anything else?"

"Business as usual. I'll check back in an hour. Out." She tucked the pen away and smiled at Napoleon. "If you need to use your communicator, use Channel H. Everything else is monitored. I'll be seeing you around, professor. If you need me, just whistle. You do know how to whistle?"

Napoleon returned the grin, running an appraising eye up and down her figure. "Well, now that you mention it, could you tell me what the hotel's policy is on employees dating guests?"

Avid laughed, pulling back her black hair from her face. "Illya warned me about you, Mr. Solo. The Hotel Manu actually encourages us to get to know our guests in an attempt to better serve their needs…and ours."

"Wonderful." Napoleon slapped his hands together. "What say after you finish work, we get together and compare notes? Mr. Waverly was pretty sparse on his information about this place and it would give us a chance to get better acquainted."

"I'll meet you at the deck bar after my shift ends, about 6 tonight. Will that be all right?"

At Napoleon's nod, she smiled again. "Oh, I wouldn't suggest using the mini bar in this room unless you check the price sheet first. I don't think THRUSH is expecting you, but the prices here are pretty scary."

"When we will meet up with Illya?"

"I'm sure he'll check in before too long, but if not, we'll catch him tonight at the lab. That partner of yours brings a whole new meaning to the phrase, all work and no play."

"As I am frequently reminding him. Until tonight then."

CHAPTER TWO: "THAT WOULD ONLY MAKE THEM SUSPICIOUS."

With a very dry martini in one hand and some party mix close to the other, Napoleon Solo leaned back in the rattan chair, seemingly lost in a rather unimpressive sunset. In fact, he was taking note of faces around him. From the initial check-in to now, he'd picked out several important people, their feats engraved upon his memory. Yet, here, they were able to mill freely and just chat with one another without concern and apparently without recognition.

Napoleon barely repressed an urge to call up his partner, just to hear his voice, but Waverly's 'he'll contact you, Mr. Solo' rang clear in his ears and so Napoleon resigned himself to watching distant figures on the beach, apparently closing up some sort of rental shop. Napoleon couldn't make out faces, but he was still close enough to nod approvingly at the bikini-clad girl who was wrestling with a Hobie Cat. Then, he sighed as a man first relieved her of the craft and then gathered her up in a rough embrace as they headed towards the ocean.

Napoleon looked away in time to see Melanie Avid enter the bar, wearing the traditional white pants and a polo shirt with 'Hotel Manu' scrawled across it. She flashed a friendly grin at the bartender and joined Napoleon. He rose to his feet, holding out a chair for her as she paused to wave to the far-off figures on the beach.

"Friends of yours?"

"Avalon is, but Kayne? Naw, he's nobody's friend, except maybe Avalon's. The grapevine says that he's hot and heavy with her. Of course, that's only rumor, but seeing is believing. How anyone could stand to hang around him is beyond me – the man has no redeeming characteristic at all…well, according to Avalon there is one… rather large… redeeming feature to the man."

The cocktail waitress approached and paused to light their table's candle and Avid ordered a Chi-Chi from her, while absently digging through her purse. The waitress moved off and Melanie triumphantly pulled out a scrape of paper. She scribbled on it and passed it to Napoleon.

He glanced down at it. 'Illya - we're fairly certain THRUSH is onto him, so try not to link yourself with him. The microphone at this table is in the candle.' He stopped reading and glanced nervously around him, while tucking the paper into a pocket. "Thank you, Miss Avid. I shall certainly consider your kind offer, but I am an old man."

"Not that old."

The waitress arrived and Melanie exchanged a few brief words with her as Napoleon sipped at his drink, trying to appear self-conscious about being with a young lady half his apparent age.

She left and Melanie held up her glass to his. "Welcome to Hawaii, professor."

"Thank you." Napoleon's attention wandered back to the beach. "What did you mean by 'he's nobody's friend.'"

"What?"

"Kayne."

"Sorry, I didn't know what you were talking about. When Kayne first came to the Manu, I tried to joke with him and get to know him. That was when I found out that you don't joke with him... about anything. He must be very good at what he does cause he certainly doesn't have any personality to stand on." She broke off, laughing softly. "I don't believe this. Here I am talking with one of the foremost men in the field of physics and we're talking about Kayne. Let's talk about something pleasant instead, like string theory or the fourth dimension."

"All right, what do people do around here for excitement?" Napoleon's velvet brown eyes watched her intently from behind his glasses.

"Do? They don't do anything. That's the whole point to this place, professor. You don't have to do anything except relax and unwind. We feature five golf courses, several tennis courts, spas, and a riding stable - all the regular resort-type of things. There are water sports. Kayne may not be pleasant, but he's a good instructor when it comes to anything water related, sail boarding, surfing, water skiing, diving, you name it and he's the man to see. There's also Kona, about a half an hour's drive away."

"What about that doctor that disappeared here? I heard about it on the news and was both concerned and intrigued by it. That sort of thing occurs a lot in my profession, the getting-away-from-it-all syndrome."

"It has been an interesting topic of discussion around here and I'd love to go into it with you. However, I am starving and I know some excellent restaurants in Kona. The atmosphere would also be a bit more intimate. It's always so open here, if you know what I mean…professor." She stroked the back of his hand suggestively and ran a toe up his shin.

"My dear, you've given an old man renewed hope." Napoleon used his cane to climb to his feet and then offered his arm to her.

As they moved to leave, they walked closer to the couple Napoleon had spotted on the beach and he brushed against the tanned blond, jostling the man's arm roughly. He turned and Napoleon found himself staring into the cool blue eyes of Illya Kuryakin - his Russian partner. For his part, Illya's face registered no hint of recognition.

"If you are not more careful, _Monsieur_, you will need more than a cane for support." A French accent easily masked Illya's usual accent.

"Kayne," Avid snapped, "This man is a guest of the hotel. You will treat him with more respect."

"So report me, Avid. You know you live for it." The suggestion was made curtly.

"It's all right, Miss Avid," Napoleon assured her. "It was entirely my fault. I am but a clumsy old man, but at least one whose childhood incorporated training in good manners. Forgive me."

Silence fell as Illya slid from the bar stool to face his partner. Napoleon smiled disarmingly at him, touched his forehead in a salute and limped off.

"I thought you were going to get into a shouting match with him," Avid breathed as they walked across the open-air lobby.

"I just couldn't help provoking him a bit."

Avid nodded absently, casually glancing around her. "Did you bring a car?"

"No, I was chauffeured out by a hulking giant of a man called Samson."

"Sam's my partner." Avid reached into her purse again, this time withdrawing a set of keys and a car cigarette lighter. "You don't mind if we take mine then?"

She led the way to a small compact car and climbed in, groaning at the waves of heat. She jingled the keys unnecessarily until she switched out one lighter for the other in the dash. To Napoleon's questioning look, she explained. "It's a jamming device. My office gave it to me as a birthday present. It keeps my secrets secret."

Without another word, she expertly maneuvered the car down the long narrow stretch of drive to the main highway and turned on the air conditioning.

"Will we meet Illya at this restaurant?" Napoleon stared away from the graffiti-covered lava to Mauna Kea. "And when can I see the damage?"

"We'll swing by Avalon's tonight and see if Illya's in. He might be able to get away, although she keeps pretty close tabs on him. As for the second request, I can do that now."

Keeping one eye on the road, she fiddled with the knob of the radio and the glove compartment rotated over to reveal a small television monitor. Punching in the second button of the radio's selector filled the screen with a barren, blackened landscape.

"You're looking north to south, the active volcano being just off the screen to your right. The site was discovered by accident and it hasn't caused much of a stir among the enemy here."

"Theirs?"

"Rest assured, but how they managed to spread that much acid is what puzzles us. Illya was of the opinion that they were using some sort of spray. Believe me when I say that stuff eats through anything. I lost a $70 pair of sneakers and a good friend to it." She glanced up into her rear-view mirror and chuckled. "Hope you feel like some company tonight. We seem to have picked up a tail."

"Can you shake them?"

"Why bother? It would only make them suspicious, plus this road heads straight to Kona. No place to go." She laughed at his obvious distress. "We have an understanding here, Mr. Solo. We don't make it too hard to keep track of us and we, in turn, have no trouble keeping tabs on them. At least, not until all this kidnapping business began. I'll bet this whole thing was dreamed up by some off-islander."

"I see." Napoleon shifted so he caught sight of the tailing vehicle in his side mirror. "Where I come from, we don't trust our enemies, no matter what the unspoken rules are."

"That's New York, Napoleon, not Hawaii. Besides, someone will be following them."

Two figures moved casually up the pathway to the beach house, the crash of the incoming tide covering the sounds of their steps. Dusk was starting to lengthen the shadows and turn the sky black.

"Are you sure he knows we're coming?" whispered one to the other.

"After your little fracas in the bar, he knows you've arrived. He'd probably be a tad upset if you didn't drop in to say hi."

Avid quietly made her way through the brush that surrounded the long, sprawling house. "This is his bedroom window," she whispered. "Maybe if we tap on it..." She trailed off at the soft, but unmistakable sounds of two people engaged in sex from inside. That made Napoleon both smile and shake his head. "Or maybe not such a good idea," she amended.

"I think Mr. Kuryakin is a touch busy at the moment," he whispered. "Is there some place else we could wait for him?"

"He usually takes an evening run along the beach. We can try to catch him there." Avid backed away from the window.

Together they walked to the wide strip of sand that bordered the ocean. "Beautiful, isn't she?" Avid asked as Napoleon draped his coat over her shoulders. "All that power."

"And absolutely no way to control it," Napoleon added, side-stepping a wave.

"That's all you Section 2's think about, isn't it? Everything is always about controlling things and people." Avid picked up a small piece of coral and hurled it back into the surf.

"It would make our job much easier if we could. Then and again, I suppose it's the chief reason for our job - keeping people free and uncontrollable."

"Good point." She led the way to a craggy outcrop of lava. "Hard to believe that this," she pointed from the black rock to a distant peak. "Came all the way down from that mountain way up there."

"Almost as well-traveled as me. Where will Illya pass?"

"Right in front of us, if he comes." She stopped realizing what she'd said and laughed. "We won't miss him."

Napoleon let the hypnotic effect of the surging waves draw him into a near trance. Avid sat close, leaning her head against his shoulder. He pulled off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. It could have been ten minutes or two hours before he caught sight of a figure, running steadily along the edge of the waves.

"Hey, Melanie, you'd better get respectable." He stroked a piece of black hair gently. "We wouldn't want our Russian to get the wrong idea."

"After what we eavesdropped upon? I don't think it's **our** virtue that's in danger of being compromised." She straightened up and handed Napoleon back his jacket.

When the figure was close enough for Napoleon to pick up the small, subtle movements that identified the figure as his partner, he stood and waved. The figure halted, obviously hesitant and then resumed his running, neither increasing nor decreasing his pace until he was abreast with them.

"A little late to be checking out tidal pools, isn't it, Avid?" Illya's voice was softly chiding. However, his body language read otherwise. It was stiff, threatened.

"Now that you mention it, yes, but when we paid you a visit earlier this evening, you were pursuing another course of...action."

Illya cleared his throat, slightly self-conscious. "I thought I heard something outside. You know THRUSH; they're always looking for a few good men. Besides, Avalon sleeps much more soundly afterwards. I'm being watched, Napoleon." Illya stood a step forward, his posture unmistakably defensive.

"I thought that was the Marines," Napoleon said, taking a step back. "Where can we talk?"

"Hit me." Illya pushed Napoleon backwards. "With your cane or your fist, I don't care which. Melanie, can you take me down?"

"I can try."

"Then do it now." Illya ordered, taking a swing at his partner. Napoleon jumped back and brought his cane up, whacking the Russian in the side. Avid immediately stepped in and grabbed the Russian and they collapsed to the ground. Illya was back on his feet and moving back towards an outcropping of rocks. Melanie followed him, gesturing wildly at Napoleon to follow them over her shoulder. The agent continued to wave the cane about him like a weapon.

Illya slipped around the rock and reached into his pocket. Withdrawing a device, he pointed it and a section of the lava slid aside. He glanced over his shoulder at his companions and gestured then forward.

Napoleon remained quiet as his partner led the way down through a maze of tunnels carved into the porous rock, the passages lit with fluorescent tubes. Suddenly, it opened into a large chamber, crammed with equipment and people.

"Nice place you have here, Mr. Kuryakin," Napoleon remarked casually as several people raised hands in welcome to the blond Russian. "Didn't hurt you, did I?'

"It would have been better if you could have hit me some place other than where I got sun burnt today, but you had no way of knowing." He smiled openly at the man. "It's good to see you, old friend." He eased his way along the crowded floor. "Actually, I'm just borrowing a spot for some research. I can't keep anything in my room, not with the 24-hour surveillance Avalon's giving me."

"So I heard."

Illya reached a desk and pushed aside a mass of paper, books and folders to spread out a topographical map of Hawaii.

"This is the area that was affected by the acid." He traced a roughly circular area with a pencil. "In order to have spread it, we thought at first that they might be using a hose set-up, but the area is too isolated and rocky to move in any big equipment. However, according to our calculations, the first incident, the one Hueber was sent to check out, happened about the same time as Kilauea's latest eruption."

"Wouldn't the scientists be using planes to get closer?" Napoleon interrupted.

"Our second guess was that it was being spread by aircraft. The only thing that bothers me is that there was also a rainstorm recorded at the same time and the borders nearly match."

"THRUSH is using an acid rain?" Avid asked, rubbing her neck. "That's crazy even for them."

"Maybe," Illya acknowledged with a smile. "We suspect that they may be using the clouds as vaporous storage vats, as it were, but how they're controlling it, I don't know." Illya sank into a swivel chair and began to type into a computer terminal nestled amidst the mass of paper. "No, there's nothing new yet, but at least no one else is dead." He leaned back and sighed. "I get so tired of this sometimes."

"You know the way out, Illya." Napoleon rested a hand on the muscular shoulder.

"Out? Damn, I've got to get back before Avalon misses me." He rose, offering Avid his chair. "See if the two of you can make anything of the rain patterns, recent storms, whatever might give us a hint at what our friends are up to. I'll see you tomorrow." He punched Napoleon lightly on the arm. "One more thing." He stood up and pulled off his shirt. "You're only going to get this one time, Napoleon, so make it good." He turned away from the American pointing to his side. "Make sure one is along here."

Napoleon set his mouth and brought the cane down hard on the Russian's side and then backhanded another blow across his stomach. Even prepared, the pain surprised him and Illya swore loudly from the force of the blow. Struggling to stand, Illya glanced at his partner and caught Napoleon's fist directly in his mouth. The next blow was neatly blocked and Napoleon's lowered his hand.

"Enough," Illya said, softly, feet splayed as he coped with the pain. "I have to be able to report to work tomorrow."

"Are you out of your mind," Avid shouted at Napoleon as she moved to the Russian's side.

Illya pushed her away and gingerly touched his mouth, wincing at the tenderness already present. He licked the blood away from the split lip. "He's never out of his mind, Melanie, and you'd be wise to remember that." Illya pulled his shirt back on and nodded slightly. "I'll try to contact you tomorrow. You can let yourselves out."

Immediately the Russian disappeared and the Hawaiian agent stood, still glaring at Napoleon. "What the hell was that all about or is this some sick game the two of you play?"

"He's being watched, Melanie. They saw me hitting him back on the beach. If there were no marks, questions would be raised."

"You agents are really pieces of work, you know that?" She started back towards the opening.

"We do what we need to do to get the job done, Melanie, no more, no less."

CHAPTER THREE: "YOU UNCLES ARE SO TRUSTING."

Napoleon Solo slowly made his way down the rocky, lava- covered path, his step cautious as he placed his cane. A bevy of young girls ran past him, slamming to a stop just short of the grass and bamboo shack Napoleon had spotted his first night here. They nudged each other and giggled.

Napoleon smiled at them, all too familiar with the signs of adolescent infatuation. When they saw him, they flounced by, making the most of what Mother Nature had so far permitted them, each girl turning her head slightly to peek inside the shack, as if gauging the effect.

Curious now, Napoleon approached the counter, rapping on it sharply with his cane. "Excuse me, could you help me?"

The man turned and stared at him, humorless. "That is my job," the once-again French accent of Illya Kuryakin answered him. The man turned and Napoleon kept from wincing at the man's split bottom lip. The hint of a smile twitched at the corners of Illya's mouth and he nodded towards the beach.

Napoleon frowned and then understanding flooded him. He pointed to a folded chair. "One of those, please, and put it somewhere in the shade."

"_Oui, monsieur_, of course." Illya heaved the chair up onto the counter and Napoleon made a move for it. "No, allow me," Illya insisted softly. "It is, after all, my job."

Napoleon shrugged his shoulders, gathered up a handful of flyers and followed Illya across the beach, struggling to keep his footing on the sand and marveling at how the Russian managed to walk across the sand barefoot. Illya found a patch of unclaimed shade and set up the chair.

"Brother, that sand is hot. We can talk here without any extra ears listening." He turned to Napoleon and gaped. "Napoleon, didn't anyone ever tell you that striped bathing trunks went out with rumble seats?" He gestured at the loose red-and-white shorts that Napoleon wore beneath the loud Hawaiian shirt.

"At least I'm not giving the girls heartaches. How did they manage to talk you into those trunks?" Napoleon quipped in turn at the blue swimsuit, which made up Kuryakin's entire outfit. Napoleon opened the top brochure and pointed randomly to it, as if he was asking a question.

"They promise they won't fall off, but every time I bend over, I say a little prayer." Illya studied the brochure and then pointed randomly to something on the page. If anyone was watching them, it looked like the beach attendant was patiently explaining something.

"You certainly are infatuating the young ladies with them. I will have to look into purchasing a pair myself. Been meaning to ask you, where did you get the tan? Malibu?"

"On my salary? Don't be ridiculous. Section 5 shot me up with a melanin compound and put me under a sunlamp. They assure me it will fade, but with all the sun I'm getting, I'm beginning to have my doubts."

There was a shout and both men turned to look towards the glistening blue ocean to where a woman was waving from the water. As he turned, Napoleon caught sight of a deep purple mark across the Russian's back.

"Sorry about last night." Napoleon said as he waved. "Doesn't Melanie work days?"

"Nothing to be sorry about, Napoleon. The facilities here are open to employees on their days off." After last night, they put her on night shift. Apparently, word of our little to-do on the beach got back to my boss and my resulting bruises were enough to put me on a warning to watch myself."

"Are we getting too close?"

"I'd say just close enough. Apparently, by inflicting these, it was just enough to convince them that you weren't associated with me. They obviously don't suspect you or you'd be out of the picture by now."

"Wouldn't that create a scene? After all, I am a guest of the hotel."

"And guests check out, Doctor, and frequently don't come back." Illya looked back towards his shack.

"You have a point. Did you find out anything else about the rain?"

"Nothing conclusive. They're being careful...for the moment. We'll have to hope for a slip up. I've got to get back. After all, I am on a salary. I'm sure Melanie will keep you company and I'm supposed to be helping some guests with their Hobie Cats."

"Will I see you tonight?"

"At the rock at about the same time."

Napoleon Solo walked slowly down the lonely stretch of sand to an outcropping of rock and made himself as comfortable as possible - a near impossibility considering the large jagged edges of the a'a lava. Last night it didn't seem too bad, but then he'd been with more distracting company. Tonight there was just him. Keeping one eye on the horizon for Illya, he noticed a large yacht, anchored not far from the breakwater.

Perhaps he wasn't as alone as he thought and his hand crept closer to the butt of the P-38 he'd opted for tonight. He secreted himself back into the protection that the lava afforded and breathed a little easier for it.

Far up the beach, he spotted a lone figure and he sunk back against the rocks until the light of the moon shone palely on Kuryakin's blond hair.

Halting practically in front of Napoleon, Illya scanned the beach. "What an odd place to park a yacht."

"My thoughts exactly," Napoleon said.

Kuryakin stiffened at his partner's voice, but didn't turn around. "Something up, Napoleon?"

"Just a sense of being watched."

"Get used to that."

Is there another way into the lab?"

"In the lava cave off to my left. You take the regular entrance and I'll use the cave. It can be life threatening in the dark." Illya pulled off his shirt and with it his holster and gun and dropped them to a pile in the sand.

"What are you doing?" Napoleon's whisper was suspicious.

"What else does one do on the beach? You take a swim. I want to go check out that yacht. I'll see in inside in ten minutes, Napoleon."

The footing through the cave was tricky since he didn't have a flashlight on him and the going was very slow. Something was chewing at the back of his brain though - it was too quiet. Someone must have been here.

Abruptly, his arm was grabbed, spinning him around and the lights flashed on, their brilliance blinding him. "Or are still presently here," he said, his hand moving toward his weapon.

"I wouldn't, Kayne dear," advised a soft voice and Illya froze.

"Oh, hello, Avalon. I should have known."

"Yes, my love, you should have." A shadow crossed in front of him and he felt a hand unzip his jacket, then remove his gun from its holster. "You UNCLEs are so trusting." She gestured to a guard, who came forward into the light.

"Not really," Napoleon's voice answered, even and calm. "I suggest you put your weapons down. You are surrounded."

The guard moved and a shot from a third direction rang out. "Completely surrounded," Melanie added.

"Melanie, I owe you dinner," Illya said with a grim smile.

Avalon hesitated glancing in that direct for the merest fraction of a second, but it was enough for Illya to take advantage of the opportunity. He ducked below the barrel of the gun she still held and spinning her, catching the woman's neck in a vice- like grip.

"Kayne, you're hurting me," she stated, shifting her weight.

"Sorry, love, but you are a THRUSH operative and impervious to pain. Where is Dr. Maglespie?"

"Do you think I'd tell you?"

"I think you'll die if you don't." The woman fell silent as she watched her companions effectively disarmed and rendered helpless.

"You all right?" Napoleon asked Illya. "What was going on with the yacht?"

"Nothing. That's when I got suspicious. It was empty. A little red herring to distract me, but it didn't work, did it Avalon? Have you met THRUSH's recruiting officer? She's been attempting to work her magic on me for days now. Avalon, this is Napoleon. Napoleon, Avalon. Now," he continued, adjusting his grip, "where is Dr. Maglespie?"

"Illya, how can she talk when you're crushing her larynx?" Napoleon asked and Illya reduced the tension upon the woman's neck, but he still held her firmly in place.

"I didn't know you could surround a group with just two people," Illya commented as Avid passed.

Melanie laughed and jerked her head to the left. "Let's get to the lab and see if any of our files are still intact."

"I wouldn't count on it, Melanie." Avalon was calm. "That was the first place we hit and we were pretty thorough."

"How many are in the raiding party?" Napoleon asked, tracing a circle in front of her nose with his Walther.

"There were enough to get the job done. We don't like loose ends, which is why we always send a back-up party after the primary group has departed. We were primary."

"Back-up?" Napoleon half-turned to Illya and then noticed a thin strip of green wafting across the glare of the lights. "Gas," he warned, holding a sleeve to his nose, but his head was already swimming, his knees weak. Through a fog, he watched Illya, Melanie and Avalon collapse to the floor gasping. He tried turning, but he stumbled and was never aware of landing.

CHAPTER FOUR: "A MAN WHO CRAWLS ABOUT IN DRAINS IS HERE TO SAVE ME?"

Illya Kuryakin, his clothes torn and dirty, wandered around the perimeter of the circular pit. He paused to study the stars above him, hoping that they would whisper some suggestion. He glanced back more at where Napoleon remained lying, motionless. The dark-haired agent had hit his head going down and Illya was concerned. He knew from experience that head wounds like to bleed, but he'd had a hard time stopping this one. Illya sighed and turned his attention back to their prison.

The pit was about 20 or so feet wide, with steep fairly smooth sides. Chunks of a'a lava lay scattered about, just enough to make walking treacherous.

"Kayne," Avalon's voice broke him from his reverie. She pointed to Napoleon, who was just starting to show signs of life.

He knelt beside the stirring man. "Napoleon, how do you feel?" He helped Napoleon sit.

"Like the Titanic must have, post iceberg." He raised a tentative finger to the general area of the throb that threatened to split his skull. "Now I know why sailors are so terrified of running aground on lava."

"Speaking of such," Melanie ventured, "We appear to be stuck ourselves. Illya, have you ever heard of a vertical lava tube?"

"Not off hand. Lava usually flows according to the pull of gravity, unless this is a chimney vent or eruption crater for a dormant volcano."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Avalon muttered, not moving from her sitting position.

"You going to give us a clue, Avalon?" Napoleon turned his attention to the THRUSH. "After all, you're in the same boat as we are."

She rose, brushing off her jumpsuit. "Well, if my guess is correct, and since this is the worst possible thing I can imagine, I'd say we're in a testing pit for the Two X Nine compound."

"The acid rain?" Melanie moved uncomfortably.

"Yup, I've heard tell of this place."

"And since THRUSH isn't sure whether or not you chirped to us, welcome to the lava pit. Charming little buggers." Illya reached out to touch to a wall and, with a cry of pain, yanked his hand away reflexively.

"Hot?" Melanie asked, frowning. She also reached out and placed a tentative finger against the wall. She didn't leave it there for long.

"Not surprising." Avalon glanced around uneasily. "There's probably an active chamber of lava on the other side. Of course, that could be the death they've planned for us. I wish I'd paid more attention at our briefing."

"Is there a way out, Avalon?" Avid rubbed her neck in reflective thought as she studied the smooth, glassy walls of their prison in the eerie blue-white glow by the moon.

"Not that they told us about and we're not known for building traps that one might escape from." She shrugged her shoulders in an 'it's useless' gesture.

"Well, we've never had any trouble...yet." Napoleon staggered up to his feet, leaning against his partner for a moment for support. "Of course, there's always a first. In the meantime, how about answering a few questions?"

"What for? You're not going to live to report anything."

"It's a matter of personal curiosity."

"Okay, shoot."

"Dr. Maglespie..."

"Him, again? What is it with you guys? I'll tell you only because I'm getting tired of his name. We...borrowed...the Doctor for some volcano controlling work, figuring if we could develop a handle for turning volcano activity on and off, we'd have a marketable commodity."

"Only a THRUSH would see it as such," Illya sighed.

"Fish gotta swim and birds gotta fly," was all she offered as an explanation. "Anyhow, after a few bad starts, we discovered a fairly simple device that did the job quite effectively as far as turning them on. Shutting them down is a bit tougher, so we sent Kilauea up and had some of our scientists go in for a closer look."

"What about the rain?" Napoleon managed a few shaky steps before thinking better of it and sitting back down.

"I'm getting there. We were crawling all over the crater and this immense storm cloud appeared over the leeward side of the caldera. Fifteen minutes later, the hill is barren of all plant life. We were as surprised as anyone else."

"That doesn't explain murdering our scouting party," Napoleon pointed out softly.

"That was your fault. You shouldn't send people into unsecured areas."

"Next time, we'll be sure to contact the local satrap and book a reservation. What about Dr. Maglespie?"

"Last I knew he was wandering around Kona, a victim of controllable amnesia. He's happy and we've got our back door covered. Now, what sort of recompense does this buy me from U.N.C.L.E.?" She looked coyly over at Napoleon.

"What do you mean?" Napoleon was careful about his promises ever since a little incident a few months back.

"Like when you leave, take me. I know how THRUSH treats their own. I'll take my chances with U.N.C.L.E."

"Rest assured we plan to keep careful tabs on you, if and when we get out."

"I would suggest doing so very soon." Avalon pulled her knees up and sighed. "In the movies they usually execute prisoners at dawn."

Illya slumped to the floor in dejection and, pleadingly, looked up at the sky, tinges of dawn coloring it. It would be time soon, if Avalon was right, and he still didn't have a way out. He dropped his head and glanced about at his fellow prisoners. Avid, her head on the remains of Napoleon's jacket, was curled up in a fetal position and Avalon was using Illya's for a pillow.

The Russian was worried about Napoleon. He was afraid that the bump Napoleon confessed to was far more serious than he initially had thought. True, the man wasn't vomiting, but he didn't seem all that steady either.

"Napoleon, are you still with me?"

"For better or worse. Any ideas yet?"

"I should be so lucky." Kuryakin slapped his hand against the wall, sitting up sharply at the hollow sound that followed. He reached for a piece of lava and again rapped on the wall. Not only did the same dull, empty 'thud' come back, but a large chip broke off and fell at his feet.

He took the rock and sent it home a third time, bringing Avalon and Melanie to a sharp awareness.

"What are you doing, Illya?" Napoleon clambered to his feet and haltingly made his way to Kuryakin's side. "Besides trying to split my head in two, of course?"

"Finding a way out of this place. Here." He thrust a piece of rock into the American's hands. "You two,as well, start chipping - there."

A few minutes later, their hands bleeding, the four succeeded in making a hole large enough for Illya to poke his head through.

"What do you see?"

"A cave, I think. It's too dark to tell." "Probably a real lava tube," Illya murmured, pulling his head back in. Napoleon was resting his head against the wall and fighting a rising nausea.

"How're you doing?" Avid lifted a concerned hand to his forehead.

"Better now that the pounding has stopped."

"Sorry to break this to you, old friend, but your reprieve is but a short one. You sit back and let us do the rest." He gently pushed the man back against the rocks and held up three fingers. "How many?"

"Hands or fingers?" came the quiet response. "Three and nine, respectively. Did I pass?"

"As long as you don't pass out, that's all I care about. Stay conscious, Napoleon." He patted a shoulder. "Lean back and relax. We'll have to move soon."

"Kayne," Avalone's voice brought him back to their chiseled hole. "Kayne…he's worse, isn't he?" She nodded to Napoleon. "What if we have to leave him behind?"

"Another difference between you and us is that that won't happen. I'll carry him first."

"And jeopardize three lives?"

"If that's what it takes. Still, I wouldn't count Napoleon out of the running just yet. Too many others have tried that and failed."

Illya squirmed through the opening, ignoring the sharp stabs of the lava. His hand grabbed air and he tumbled to the ground abruptly. He climbed to his feet carefully, checking the clearance with a hand instead of a head. There seemed plenty of room, so he turned back to the hole.

"Okay, Napoleon next."

"I'm not incapable," he heard Napoleon protest and a moment later, the man had joined him, disoriented in the near total darkness, but standing.

"Welcome to my parlor," Illya said, reaching through. "Okay, Avalon, you're next."

"And put some speed into it. There was a cloud forming." Napoleon stood by, just in case his partner needed an extra hand.

They tugged Avid through just as the first few drops hit the pit's floor, sending up hisses as they landed.

"Now, let's get out of here." Illya wet a finger and held it up, sensing a faint breeze. "My old Young Pioneer instinct says that way."

Together, the four stumbled down the tunnel, tripping over obstacles hidden in the total darkness of the lava tube.

"Hold it," Kuryakin's voice echoed within the restricted space. "I think I see a light. We may be at the end of our quest."

"Thank small favors for that. I'm about out of shins back here." Melanie quipped, obviously delighted at the prospect.

"You three stay here, just in case this turns out to be the local THRUSH branch office. Napoleon, Melanie, keep a lid on our lovely enemy agent and I'll go take a look."

Illya eased closer to the light and discovered it was coming from an overhead grate.

"Problems," he heard a voice sigh, "always problems." Illya peered up at the lab-coated man.

"Dr. Maglespie," he said softly, then louder. "Dr., psst, down here."

The scientist looked around, then down, his face blossoming with puzzlement. "Young man, what are you doing in my drain?"

"It's a longer story than you'd want to hear. I'm Illya Kuryakin from the UNCLE and I've been sent to rescue you."

"A man who crawls around in drains is here to save me? Pardon me if I remain cautious."

"I won't disagree with you that the circumstances are far from reassuring. Are you all alone?"

"For the moment, yes, my guards have wandered off. They are under the impression that I am not a violent or a brave man. Sadly, they are correct on both counts. Better a live coward than a dead hero."

"Can you help me get this grate off?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Sir, do you not want to be rescued?"

"Not really."

"Then would you help me get this grate off so that I can escape, for I, very much, want to be rid of these meddling birds."

Kuryakin threaded his way back to where he'd left his party, thankfully now with the benefit of a small flashlight he'd borrowed form the doctor. He paused in the gloom, unable to spot anyone in the darkness. "Napoleon?"

"Illya," came Napoleon's voice, "they're gone, both of them."

"What?" Illya stumbled towards the voice, finally coming to a halt before the man, who was struggling to sit up.

"She beaned me with a rock. If my brains aren't dripping out my ear by now, I'll be surprised. When I woke up, they had both disappeared."

"Well, they'll have to find their own way out. We have another surprise up ahead, a scientist that is blissfully wandering around Kona with no memory."

"Illya, please don't talk in riddles."

"Dr. Maglespie."

"He's here? But Avalon said...oh, the wandering in Kona bit makes sense now."

"It would appear our THRUSH is rotten to the core."

"It's a prerequisite, you know. I could have told you as much. I was surprised she came out with the whole acid rain story."

Illya hauled him to his feet and helped him to the lab. Dr. Maglespie gasped when he first caught full sight of them and Illya found himself wishing for the dark of the lava tube again. Both men were battered and bleeding from dozens of cuts and scrapes.

"Somehow, things didn't hurt as bad in there," he murmured, regarding his own condition.

The elderly man nodded, pushing Napoleon's head back to peer in one eye, then the other. "You should get your friend here into a hospital, Mr. Spy from the U.N.C.L.E."

"As soon as we get you safely out of here," Napoleon murmured, pulling away, while Illya was rummaging through several drawers. He located a gun and tossed it to Napoleon, who almost dropped it.

"Sorry," he shrugged his shoulders. "Double vision."

"Can't take you anywhere." Illya searched about until he located a second and checked the mechanism. "I can't believe they'd leave loaded weapons around. Just proves what I've been saying about everything going to pot. How would you suggest proceeding from here?"

"Graceful surrender? I'm not going to be much good to you in a fight."

"Something a bit more positive?"

"Sorry. How about a direct approach?"

"How did you even know I was in here, Mr...?" Maglespie fixed a watery stare upon the slender agent.

"Kuryakin, sir. We have our...sources. Do you know why you're being kept here?"

"Because he hasn't done what we've asked of him." Avalon's voice came from behind a computer bank. "This time, Kayne, there will be no saving grace from a fellow agent."

"She may be right, you know," Illya said, wiping his face free from sweat and dirt.

"Where's Melanie?" Napoleon's voice was cold, the hazel eyes without warmth.

"Somewhere back in the tunnel. I didn't stop to mark the grave."

Napoleon took a threatening step towards her and the barrel of her gun rose an inch. Wordless, he glared at her, fury in his face. "And what of us," he whispered, harshly.

"Oh, I don't know. THRUSH Central is very interested in getting into your brain, Mr. Solo, and finding out your little secrets. As for our dear Mr. Kuryakin, some minor realignment of his loyalties, and he'll fit in quite nicely with our little society."

"I'd rather be dead," was the soft reply.

"I can arrange that too, if necessary. The hardware, gentlemen, drop it."

Napoleon looked at the gun and then swayed; without a sound, he crumpled to his knees.

The movement drew Avalon's attention and her gun faltered for the brief second Illya needed.

Swiftly, he darted forward and wrestled the weapon from her grasp. Quickly he twisted her hand behind her back, keeping the gun leveled at her head. "I wouldn't struggle too much if I were you. I'm very tired and not in the mood."

"Be careful, Illya, we don't want her bruised any more than necessary." Napoleon got to his feet and retrieved his gun. Dusting off his hands, he pulled Avalon from Illya. "Now, my dear, you're going to get us out of here."

"Don't be stupid," She spat the words at him. "There are THRUSH all over this base. Nobody has that much luck." Illya blocked the door with whatever he could get his hands on and move.

"Napoleon does," Illya murmured, in her ear. "Or have you forgotten who saved you from death at the hands of your own confederates?"

A puff of smoke belched through the drain grate and Maglespie, quiet, or perhaps just too stunned to speak before now, found his tongue.

"Sulphurous," he analyzed.

"Lava must have broken through the wall of the vertical lava tube that shouldn't exist. Guess she wasn't joking when she said there was an active volcano on the other side," Napoleon spoke over his shoulder to his partner. The blocked door shuddered slightly from an external blow. "Somehow, I'm not crazy about using that door."

"And just when I thought I was through with lava. Thanks for arranging our death, Napoleon." Avalon squirmed in Napoleon's grip before lashing out backward with her heel, catching the man on his instep. The killing grip lessened and she bolted away towards the door just as it exploded inward.

Amid the smoke and rubble that followed, Illya could barely pick out the shapes of approaching guards. Clouds of gas billowed out of the grate, intermingling with that of the man- made haze, making them all wheeze and cough.

From behind a bench, Napoleon could hear the retort of a gun and guessed Illya's hiding place. He joined in with his own fire, slowly picking his way closer to the Russian.

He dropped to the man's side. "How are you doing, Napoleon?" Illya permitted himself the briefest of moments to glance at the American

"Rotten. I couldn't hit the side of a very broad barn. At least, the range instructor can't see me. I'm also down to two clips."

"Now I know how the guys at the Alamo felt."

"But they didn't have lava at their heels." Napoleon had to agree with that; the temperature had risen several degrees and above the gunfire, pops and hisses could be heard, giving the impression of an approaching locomotive. "At least we'll destroy the base."

"And us along with it." Illya steadied his hand. "Napoleon, did you ever see 'Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid'?"

"Once or twice, why?"

"Want to go out with a bang?"

Napoleon smiled grimly at the blue eyes and nodded. "I'll take the left." But before he could move, the figures abruptly retreated. "Whoops, looks like the party crashers left. Now what?"

"Napoleon! Illya!" Avid's voice cut through the smoke and flames. "Are you in there?"

Napoleon laughed and Illya bent back his head to sigh.

"Once more out of the flaming maw of death," Illya said before yelling, "It's us, Melanie, we're here."

"Good, don't do any shooting. We're coming in."

"Right." Napoleon waved a hand before his face to try and dissipate the smoke, while searching for the doctor. He spotted a pair of legs jutting out from beneath an overturned table and grabbed Illya's arm.

"Something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so." Napoleon picked his way through the debris to the table and heaved it aside. Illya knelt beside the doctor and pressed a finger to the man's carotid artery.

"This isn't going to look good on our report, Napoleon," Illya said sadly as Napoleon covered the man with a lab jacket. "But then, neither will our deaths. Should we leave before or after the lava?"

"I'm coming." Napoleon remained by the doctor's body, asking his forgiveness even in death. He rose and looked over at Kuryakin. Something in his partner's stance was decidedly wrong, forcing Napoleon to ask, "Illya, what is it?"

The blond head bobbed towards him. "Nothing, I just found what's left of Avalon, that's all." He coughed and then rubbed furiously at his eyes. "Damn smoke."

Napoleon had to agree.

EPILOGUE

Napoleon Solo leaned back against the cool sheets and contemplated the view out of his shuttered hospital window. All his various scrapes and cuts had been treated, things were still a little fuzzy and bright lights hurt his eyes, but events were definitely on the upswing.

His door rattled and he slowly turned his attention to it as the head of his partner poked in.

"You feel like some company, old friend?" Illya asked as he entered.

"Sure, why not?"

"Boy, it's dark in here," Avid muttered as she followed Kuryakin in. "Just like in the lava tube." She grinned warmly at him.

"But much cooler. Dark is easier on my poor bruised brain," Napoleon answered. "And don't smile too much - I can't stand those flashes of white."

She laughed and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "A little TLC for our wounded comrade, no pun intended."

"Speaking of such, Illya, when are they going to let me out of here?"

"Well," Illya said, easing himself down onto the corner of the bed. "I did see how much pull I had around here..."

"Him and the head nurse, gone for hours." Avid took a seat by Napoleon's head.

"I can imagine."

"What about tomorrow," Illya continued with a smile.

"What? That's great!" Napoleon spoke with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "After all this 'paradise', New York is going to be wonderful."

"Not for you, though, I'm afraid." Illya reached into a pocket for a brochure. "You're off for a month to a rest camp."

"I've heard of those places," interrupted Melanie. "Lots of beautiful women, body massages with warm oil, those long skilled fingers..."

"All right, Melanie," Illya cut her off. "I think he's got the picture."

"So I leave one paradise for another. Terrific." Napoleon slumped back against his pillows and glowered.

"I wish I was in your shoes." Illya patted his leg. "Think of all that paperwork I'm going to have to deal with when I get back. And then there's the less than adequate way we resolved the problem with Dr. Maglespie."

"By the way, how did Mr. Waverly react to the news?"

"Well, since the lava wiped out the THRUSH base, nipping their latest project in the bud, as it were, and, since we've managed to put the rest of Hawaii's THRUSH out of business, he was only slightly less than pleased."

"I had a feeling that's where you were headed. But, Melanie, how did you get out?"

A soft knock cut him off and a nurse appeared. Napoleon took in her trim supple form in the crisp white uniform and smiled warmly at her. "Hello..."

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you both to leave now. It's time for Mr. Solo's bath."

"Pity, now that would be something to watch. Avid kissed Napoleon's cheek softly. "Aloha, Mr. Solo, I hope you have a wonderful life, even if you are a crazy enforcement agent.

"What about me?" Illya guided her to the door. He waved to his partner over his should and opened the door one handedly.

"You, Illya, you shall have to make your own luck. Now come on, you owe me dinner and I know a place down on Keawe Street that makes the best..."


End file.
